


On Shores Below a Crumbling Sky

by ViaLethe



Category: Firefly
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, loving someone means staying with them forever; sometimes it means leaving them behind.  This is a story about both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Shores Below a Crumbling Sky

She and Simon get off the ship on New Melbourne, and she does not look back.

She doesn't want Simon to leave with her. But he is Simon, and none of her clearest requests, Kaylee's defeated pleading, or Mal's glowering can make him stay behind when River has made it clear she intends to leave.

New Melbourne is a good planet for hiding, provided one can accept the smell and sound of the sea; it's small and isolated enough that Alliance activity is minimal, but large and busy enough that their arrival, and continued presence, will be unremarkable.

Simon finds a job in a small clinic, diagnosing and treating hurts much smaller than those he has been accustomed to. He throws himself into his work, rarely returning to the rooms they've rented before dark. They don't often speak, in those early, disconnected weeks, and this hurts River as much as the simple reality of his continued, steady presence in her life comforts her.

They have been there near a month when she spots a sign in the window of a bar called The Lighthouse and ventures in to provide the help they need.

It's a decent enough place, clean but crowded, with low lighting and a heavy hum of voices. Weaving through the crowd, River asks after the owner and is pointed to a small corner table.

The bar's owner is a solid type, a thin smile nearly hidden by a greying beard, but with honest friendliness in his eyes. “Looking for work, miss? Have much experience tending bar then, do you?”

River shakes her head, hair falling around her face. “No. But I'm a fast learner. And I have other qualities useful in an establishment like this.”

His eyebrows raise; River knows she has the traditional assets of neither a bouncer nor a barmaid. “And what might those be, sweetheart?” Still, his smile is curious and not mocking, so she merely says, “This,” as she turns into the growing sounds of disturbance behind her.

The belligerent drunk facing off with the bouncer barely takes note of the slip of a girl approaching until her hand impacts his throat.

The surge of adrenaline threatens, as always, to overrule her brain; it is harder to control out here in the world, away from _Serenity's_ comfort and isolation. But she ruthlessly maintains her grip on the _girl_ , not the _weapon_ – no need for the _lethal dance_ here, when simple moves gleaned from Jayne's brawling tactics will suffice. She hooks a leg behind the gasping drunk's knee and he topples, stunned out of belligerence and lacking now the ability to vent his rage verbally or physically.

Sliding her hair back behind her shoulders, River resumes her seat. “Is that sufficient for the job?”

The barman is quick to recover; no doubt he's seen stranger things in his time. “All yours, miss,” he says with a grin, one that is not thin but truly _shiny_. “You've a name to go with the pretty face and fancy moves?”

“River,” she says, offering a slim hand across the table. “I look forward to proving my worth, Mr...?”

“Ward,” he says, with a firm handshake. “Malachi Ward, you can call me Mal.”

Her face, covered in shadow, falls into stillness. “No, I don't believe I can.”

***

She works for him for three years, and never once calls him by his name; always, it is _sir_ or _Mr Ward_. He finds this strange at first, until he meets her brother and decides they were simply raised on a planet with more manners and fewer sailors than this one.

Simon comes to fetch her from work late one night for the first time, some three months after her start there. It's been a peaceable night, leaving her with little to do but finish wiping down the bar as Malachi cleans mugs.

“Simon, won't be but a minute,” she assures him. “Didn't have to come for me.”

“It's late, _mei mei_. It isn't safe to walk home alone so often.” Simon is, as always, cautious; even more so now that his world has once again shrunk down to hold only her.

“Mr Ward would have walked me. Needn't _worry_ so much, Simon. It isn't good for your health. You ought to know better.”

Malachi laughs and thrusts a damp hand across the bar towards Simon. “I got a little sis just like her back home, always telling a man what he should be doing. Malachi Ward, call me Mal.” He shoots a glance at River. “Even though your sister here won't seem to take to that idea.”

Simon looks to River as well, but her face is hidden by a sweep of hair, not willing to be read.

Still, Simon knows why they've left the ship. And he knows now why River, with her tenuous grasp on proprieties, refers to this man alone with an impeccable politeness that does their upbringing proud.

***

She had come to him the night Mal and Inara announced to the crew that they were planning to marry, that Inara had formally left the Companion's guild and would not depart _Serenity_ again.

Kaylee was performing repairs in the engine room, delayed until late in the night cycle by the crew's celebration, leaving Simon for once alone in his bunk. When he opened the door, the last thing he had expected was River, tears streaming down her face as he'd not seen since before Miranda.

“River, what's the matter, _mei mei_? Has something happened?” He guided her into the room, slid the door shut, felt a sick wash of memory – _not this again, never this again, she was doing so much_ better – and wondered if he had any smoothers in his bedside medkit.

But her voice, when she spoke, was steady, if thin, and her words were not quite the terrified rambling he had feared. “Can't stay here, Simon. Too much happiness, bursting all around me. Not mine though, doesn't belong to me. Can't steal it, isn't right.” She raised her eyes to his, and though her body was trembling, all he saw in her face was hardened clarity. “I don't belong here anymore.”

They all wanted her to stay – well, everyone but Jayne wanted her to stay – but Simon watched carefully, and noticed that Inara accepted sooner, did not press her as hard as the others. In the end it was she who silenced even Kaylee's protests, reminding them that River was an adult, fully capable of choosing her own path, that they should allow her to do so.

Mal merely watched these proceedings with sad, confused eyes. He asked his pilot, and then his medic, to remain, of course. They were part of his crew, his family, and he'd not willingly lose more. But he'd never been a man to beg.

It was only as they left the ship that Simon truly understood his sister's reasons. In the cargo bay, taking inventory of his medical supplies one final time to make sure he had left all he could on board and yet had enough to start over planetside, he'd found himself unintentionally eavesdropping on Inara and River's farewell.

“ _Mei mei_...” Inara sounded oddly unsure of herself, and sighed before continuing. “I wish you didn't feel that you have to leave. I am sorry, truly. You know I would never want to hurt you.”

River's voice, when she responded, still had that thin, disconnected quality. “I know. Don't want to wish ill on you either. I want you to be happy. Want _him_ to be happy. Just can't stay to see it.” Simon, looking up through the grating, saw her smile, even as her tears fell through the catwalk to the floor beside him. “It would break me, Inara. So much love. To have to _feel_ that, every day, and know it won't ever be mine. Too dangerous. You know that.”

Inara sighed again, and wiped the tears from River's face with the edge of her shawl, silk on salt, before gathering her into her arms. “I know, _mei mei_. I know.” She pulled back from River, meeting her eyes squarely. “Just promise me something. Don't forget us. To have a family like the one we do here on _Serenity_ – it's a rare thing. You have to be ready to act, if your family needs you. Always.”

River glanced down for a second; to Inara it likely seemed no more than a moment to gather herself, but Simon knew as River's eyes met his that of course she had been aware of his presence all along, that this was her way of explaining to him what she was unable to tell him directly. “I promise. I'll remember, and wait. Always.”

He watched River, not an hour later, as they made their final farewells. Watched her cling to Kaylee, watched her throw her arms around Zoe and Inara and even a startled Jayne. Watched her as she merely smiled sadly at Mal, pretending not to see his hands reaching for her as she turned and walked away.

She hadn't looked back.

***

Now, as they leave the bar, nearly half a year separated from _Serenity_ , he dares to ask what he hasn't before. “Did the Captain know you were in love with him, River?”

He never knows if she is startled or not. A reader must have an unreadable face, and she only looks upward, into the distant night sky. “No. I didn't want him to know, so he didn't. Only Inara.” She sighs, reaching a hand out to the stars. “Doesn't matter now. Had to leave him free, and myself whole. Didn't belong to me, wasn't mine.”

Her hand falls back towards land, and when she looks at him and smiles, it's all full of pain, and makes him think of _Serenity_ and Kaylee and the wounds in himself he can't sew up. They don't speak of it again.

***

Near on three years later, she comes into the bar one night to find Mr Ward anticipating her arrival.

“River, good. Sure am glad to see you, girl. Got trouble brewing back there.” He points to a far corner through the crowd, but River can only see blurred impressions as figures pass back and forth across the room. “Man's been in here drinking all day, and his friend ain't much better off. They don't belong 'round here either. Keep an eye on them.”

River nods, heads behind the bar, thinks little more of it. While their regular clientele know by now to take their disputes outside, New Melbourne is a busy place. Strangers in from the black often get in over their heads and need less than gentle hands to haul them out. She's long since honed her mind to catch on the edges of burgeoning trouble before it can blow up into storms, pays little attention to the slurred chatter of drunken minds and any extraneous thoughts that try to slip through from them.

As such, she's unprepared for the large shadow the falls over the bar, for the rough voice that says, “Gorramit! Moonbrain, that you?”

She knows him instantly, of course; the years have roughened and scarred him a bit more, but he is, as ever, unmistakable. “Jayne.” She furrows her brow, considering. “I am me, myself and no one else. In that sense, yes, it is me. Not so moonbrained now, though.” She breaks then and smiles at him, before taking in just how drunk he truly is as he attempts to reach over the bar and haul her across. She swats his hands away easily, pushing him off balance, more confused than angered. “Inappropriate behavior. If you want something, _ask_ , don't grab.”

“You gotta come back. Back to _Serenity_.” He lays his head on the bar, as through the words leave him exhausted. “It's been ruttin awful these last few months.”

River frowns, opening her mouth to ask what in the 'verse could have gone wrong for them now, when the sharp edges in the room cut across her brain and she looks up to see Malcolm Reynolds' face just as it meets with an angry fist. Her face tightens, and she goes to work.

***

Back at their house, she has roused Simon from his bed to sew up an unconscious Mal's face, while she forces coffee on Jayne in an attempt to return him to something approaching sobriety. Mr Ward had called after her as she walked out the door with them, but she has read enough from Jayne's liquid thoughts to know it does not matter, that she will not be returning.

“How long has he been like this?” Simon asks, snipping off the last of the thread. It's obvious to his eyes that Mal's diet lately has been too much liquid, not enough solid, and that tonight's fight was just one in a prolonged series.

Jayne sits with his head in his hands, seeming too big for their small rooms. “Going on five months now. Ever since Inara died.”

Simon looks up sharply at this, his scissors falling to the floor, but River is already speaking, in a quiet monotone that comes when the words are merely _read_ , not _thought_. “She was sick. Had been for years. Why she left the Core in the first place. Didn't want to be coddled, fussed over, _restricted_. She wanted to be free as long as she could. Knew she couldn't hide it much longer when we first left. They just wanted to be happy for a while...”

Jayne nods, eyes on the floor, too bleary to be unsettled by River's ways. “When she first started going weaker, keeping to her bunk more, we thought – Kaylee and Zoe thought – that maybe she was breedin'. But that weren't it. And then she told us she was dyin'. Captain went all wooly-headed, coming up with all sorts of crazy plans to get her help, but she wouldn't have it. Made Zoe 'n me promise not to let him do anything stupid.” He stops and snorts, takes a swig from his mug. “As if that were ever easy. Weren't nothin' anybody could do no how, according to her.”

River's eyes have not left Mal's face as Jayne spoke. Now she glances briefly at Simon, a slight shake of her head answering his unasked question. “There wasn't. Can't fix everything, Simon.”

They are all silent for a moment, until Simon clears his throat and looks at Jayne, uncertain. “Her death must have been very hard on everyone. I'm very sorry to hear of it. She was...she deserved more.”

“Damn right it was hard. Weren't bad enough we'd lost Wash and the preacher already, and you two'd gone runnin' off. No, then she's gotta slip away right in front of us, and there ain't a damned thing we can do.” His hands tighten around the mug, and for a moment River fears for its delicate structure. “Captain's been useless ever since, drinking himself blind when he ain't setting us up on gorram suicidal jobs nobody else's dumb enough to take.”

River is focused on Mal again, her hand a hairsbreadth from his on the bed. “He's broken. Doesn't think he can be whole again without her. Lost too much to feel like a proper captain.” Her face turns towards Simon, though her eyes stay fixed and steady on Mal. “We have to give him something back. Help fill in the bits, make him whole enough for functioning again.”

Simon nods. He has seen it in her tensed stance, in the way her eyes rarely leave Mal except to look at Jayne, as if to reassure herself they are truly here, within her reach. And he is tired; tired of this watery planet, of salt and fish, of these rooms, of living each day for and around River and River alone. Tired of missing Kaylee, though he dares not ask Jayne about her. He simply allows himself to hope that she isn't too damaged, too changed, that just being in her presence again will be enough to give him some peace. “We'll go back with them, if that's what you want. First thing tomorrow. God knows there's little enough to keep us here.” He rises to leave, eying Jayne with old residual suspicion. “Do you want to stay here tonight, or...?”

Jayne blinks, seeming to realize a decision has been made and the conversation ended without his input. “Nah. I'll head on back to _Serenity_ , let 'em know what's what. Girls'll be worried 'bout us.” He hesitates, looking to River. “You two gonna be coming back on board with him in the morning then?” Simon nods and steers him out the door, looking back to River as they go.

“I'll be fine, Simon. Just want to sit with him a while.”

As the door closes behind them, Mal's eyes open, struggling to focus. “Li'l albatross, that you? I gotta be dreamin'.” His gaze wanders, catches again on her face. “You come to fly me outta this life?”

She closes her eyes, her movement the fraction of a heartbeat as she takes his hand in hers. “No, Mal. I've come to fly you home.”


End file.
